Friendship
by an-angel-in-hell
Summary: What do you do when your best friend falls in love with you? HousexWilson SLASH don't like, don't read. NOW COMPLETE, WITH ADDED BONUS FEATURES!
1. Falling

Friendship

Summary: What do you do when your best friend falls in love with you? HousexWilson SLASH

A/n: No flames. Please. This is actually a highly personal piece, so I would really; really appreciate if you would stick to what they told you in preschool- if you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all.

Disclaimer: I really want House and Wilson to be mine. And yet, they still are NOT. Life's funny that way…

-

What do you do when your best friend falls in love with you?

It was a question that Wilson had to ask himself after the hospital's New Year's party. He had been surprised when House had shown up. House _never_ came to these things.

"I had a feeling Julie wouldn't be coming with you, so I decided I'd be your date," he explained. "After all, isn't it my duty to pretend to be your boyfriend to keep the nurses from trying to mob you?"

Wilson had rolled his eyes and shrugged off the quip. In retrospect, perhaps he should've paid more attention. Because, if he had, he might not have been so surprised when, as everyone else counted down to 12:00, House grabbed him by the collar, pushed him roughly against the wall, and kissed him with what felt like- and probably was- years of repressed passion.

Wilson's first instinct was to push away. But… God, House was a good kisser. He was just beginning to enjoy it- when House pulled away.

"Huh?" Wilson squeaked.

There was a look of faint panic on his friend's face. "I'm sorry," he said quickly; and proceeded to limp away as fast as he could.

Wilson knew he should go after him. But he couldn't.

When he got to work the next day, he went immediately to House's office. He saw three guilty faces look up at him as he passed through the conference room.

"Good morning, Dr. Wilson." Cameron said, but the greeting lacked her usual cheer.

Foreman looked annoyed, and was glaring at Cameron and Chase, who just looked guilty.

"What's going on?" Wilson asked, curious.

"Nothing." Foreman asked exasperatedly. "Some people just have nothing better to do than repeat gossip."

Cameron rolled her eyes. "I was just expressing my opinion-"

"Yeah, and it's _such_ a good idea to spread rumors about your boss."

"I wasn't spreading rumors! I was only-"

"What are they saying about him now?" Wilson asked. At one point he would have been concerned, but now he was only resigned. He'd find out what the gossip was, and then he'd deal with however House reacted to it.

Cameron and Foreman instantly shut their mouths. Wilson sighed. "Chase?"

Chase squirmed. "I don't think I should be-"

"If I don't hear it from you, I can just get it from one of the nurses." Wilson pointed out.

"Yes, we're all dying to hear this little tidbit."

Looks of varying panic leapt onto the three young doctor's faces. Wilson turned to see none other than Gregory House standing in the doorway. He entered the room and began to pour himself a cup of coffee. "Oh, and if you don't spill, you're fired."

Wilson highly doubted that House was serious, but apparently Chase was unwilling to risk it. "They're saying that- um, you and Dr. Wilson… uh, kissed. At the party last night."

Wilson felt a surge of panic rush through him. He glanced at House, but he was just sipping his coffee and looking resolutely ahead. "And in your professional opinion, would you say that there is evidence to support that lovely piece of gossip?"

Chase looked intensely uncomfortable. "I don't have enough information to have a reliable opinion. I would have to ask those involved."

House gave a wry smile. "Clever, one, isn't he? Wilson, I'll let you handle this one." And with that, he limped over to his office.

Wilson noted that House had stopped in the doorway, probably to hear his response.

Instead of looking at Chase, Wilson looked at House's back when he said, "No. It's a lie. Nothing happened."

Wilson thought he saw his friend's shoulders slump ever so slightly, then House walked into his office and shut the blinds.

-

What do you do when your best friend falls in love with you?

It was a question that Wilson had to ask himself again after he moved in with House, post-Julie. Because when he had shown up at the door that night, there had been a look that was one part hope, one part lust, and one part sheer desperation in his friend's eyes that drove the doubts from his mind completely. Greg House was in love with him.

He had to ask. He had to be sure. "Greg?"

"What?"

"At the New Year's party, um… did you- I mean, why-"

"I thought you'd forgotten all about that."

"Why did you do it?" he asked again.

House sighed. "I don't know, Jimmy. It just seemed like the best thing to do at the time."

Wilson sagged in relief. "Okay."

It was a nice lie, an easy one. Comforting to believe. The kiss hadn't meant anything. Greg had just had a little too much to drink. He'd gotten carried away.

But the pain he hadn't been able to help seeing in House's eyes kept him awake that night. Greg was in enough pain already. Wilson had the power to take just a little away. But he didn't know how. He didn't want to loose their friendship. House needed him. And he needed House. He needed him a lot.

What do you do when you fall in love with your best friend?

-

Finis


	2. St Jimmy

Part two: St. Jimmy

Hey, guess what? I added more. I decided I should, because I felt like it. I have no clue how long this will be or if it will progress into a lengthy, multi-chapter story. In other words, updates will occur on a whim. However, said whims will be documented in my profile, near the top in bold (the 'Active Story Stats' section).

And I suppose that the story now enters into AU, as it still takes place during (to quote my friend and fellow House addict) 'the good ol' House/Wilson roomie days'.

Also, if anybody has the American Idiot CD by Green Day, dig it out, because it would really help to be listening to it.

-

Wilson returned home late one night to the sound of a blaring stereo playing generic rock music.

He used his key to get in, then crossed the room to the CD player and lowered the volume down significantly. House, who was stretched out on the couch, pouted.

"I was listening to that."

Wilson rolled his eyes. "You _do_ know that I have to actually be home for your blaring music to annoy me?" he spied the album cover lying on top of the stereo. "I thought you said Green Day sold out?"

House scoffed. "Well, _duh._ Dookie was much better than this crap."

"Then why are you listening to it?"

House grinned. "Because they named a song after you! Turn it to number six."

Wilson did so, prepared for the worst. It started with just guitar riffs, but then the words began-

_St. Jimmy's comin' down across the alleyway_

_Upon the boulevard like a zip gun on parade_

_Lights of a silhouette_

_He's insubordinate_

_Comin' at you on the count of 1,2_

_(1,2,3,4!)_

He laughed. "Saint Jimmy? Greg, for the love of…"

_My name is Jimmy and you better not wear it out_

_Suicide commando that your momma talked about_

_King of the 40 thieves and I'm here to represent_

_The needle in the vein of the establishment_

_I'm the patron saint of the denial_

_With an angel face and a taste for suicidal_

House appeared to be getting into it now, singing along with the last three lines. Wilson just rolled his eyes.

_Cigarettes and ramen and a little bag of dope_

_I am the son of a bitch and Edgar Allen Poe_

_Raised in the city in the halo of lights_

_Product of war and fear that we've been victimized_

_I'm the patron saint of the denial_

_With an angel face and a taste for suicidal_

Wilson looked at House. _Taste for suicidal?_

_Are you talkin' to me?!_

Just looked, nothing more.

_I'll give you somethin' to cry about!!_

Perhaps this song was more accurate than met the eye. A taste for suicidal indeed… The thoughts that had been in the back of his mind for a while now began to form once more, and this time Wilson knew what to do. He knew what he wanted.

_St. Jimmy!!_

Wilson took a deep breath and walked very deliberately to the couch. House sat up, a look of caution on his face. "What are you up to?"

He said nothing, merely sat next to his best friend, leaned over, and kissed him softly on the lips. It was a kiss that was chaste and simple, but to House it meant everything.

House shuddered very slightly and pulled Wilson against him, deepening the kiss and sliding his tongue into the other man's mouth.

_My name is St. Jimmy I'm a son of a gun _

_I'm the one that's from the way outside, now_

_A teenage assassin executing some fun _

_In the cult of the life of crime, now_

They held each other tightly, not breaking the kiss and not letting go.

_I'd really hate to say it but I told you so_

_So shut your mouth before I shoot you down 'ol boy_

_Welcome to the club and give me some blood_

_I'm the resident leader of the lost and found_

They reluctantly pulled apart.

_It's comedy!_

Wilson grinned sheepishly. "Was that too…?"

_And tragedy!_

House shook his head. "No- it was…"

_It's St. Jimmy!_

Wilson was beginning to think he'd misread House after all. "What?"

_And that's my name!!_

House smiled, really smiled, which was rare for him. "Exactly what I needed."

_And don't wear it out!!!!!!!_

He grabbed the stereo remote and shut off the CD. "Next song's really emo," he muttered. "Kill the mood."

There was a brief awkward silence, then Wilson cleared his throat and said, "I think… I think I'm falling for you. Pretty hard, actually." He rubbed the back of his neck with his hand nervously.

Surprise registered in his expression before a mischievous look formed on his face. "I'll show you _hard_…"

Wilson rolled his eyes. "I was being serious."

A look of uncertainty entered his friend's eyes. "That works out, I guess."

"I thought you-"

"Do you really want to spend any more time _talking_?" House interrupted, a lewd expression on his face.

Wilson blinked. "Not really."

House pulled Wilson to him and captured his lips in a searing kiss.

-

And now they were lovers. Wilson couldn't complain- the sex alone was amazing. But what he almost liked better was afterwards, when they would fall asleep in each other's arms. House, so abrasive and caustic under normal circumstances, was often tender and sometimes even sweet when they were in bed together.

Wilson was surprised how amazing it actually was.Now, he found himself missing House more than ever when they were apart. He began spending every spare moment in his lover's office, or just walking around the hospital with him. And on the few days of the week when they didn't eat together because he was with a patient or (in House's case) off doing God knows what, Wilson found lunchtime unbearably lonely without House leaning over to steal his food.

Wilson was lying in House's arms one night, drowsy and pleasantly exhausted from the combination of a long day and mind-blowing sex. "That was fun," he murmured.

"Mmhm." House sounded just as tired as he was.

Wilson yawned. "Love you, you know."

House stiffened slightly, and Wilson sighed inwardly. It wasn't the first time he'd said it. House never returned the sentiment, but usually said something along the lines of "I know," or "Me too." It was unusual for him to simply be silent.

After a pause, his lover spoke again. "Look, I… I'm not very good at this sort of thing. And… I'm probably only going to say this once, but… I do love you."

Wilson smiled, his emotions suddenly too great for words. He kissed House softly on the lips, a brief, chaste kiss full of all the sentimental things that he knew House would never let him say.

And that was when Wilson realized that things had not exactly gone according to plan. He truly _needed_ House, and that was new. Before, it had always been _House_ who needed _him,_ and he, Wilson, was the one being long-suffering, the one who could walk away and not get hurt.

Wilson's relationships inevitably failed, and he realized that there was a part of him that he kept closed off, safeguarded against that very thing. There was an uncomfortably large part of him that was certain that his current affair with House would do the same, and he had tried to guard himself against that, against the day when House would panic and push him away for good, out of his heart and his bed and his life.

But he'd failed. And, with a bit of a sinking feeling, Wilson realized that if House were to end this tomorrow… his heart would break.

-

Review?


	3. Deceleration

Part Three: Deceleration 

Okay, so originally this was going to be the last chapter, but… it got long, so the chapter is being split into two parts! So there'll be one more chapter after this, and _that_ will be the last one. And, uh… all of you who thought chapter two was sad? You ain't seen nothin' yet.

-

Months passed. Cuddy was the first to notice their change in status. She looked just a little disappointed, but the look on her face when she'd finally figured it out was mostly amusement.

"Figures," she'd muttered under her breath. "The nurses have been gossiping about it for years." She'd given them a serious look then, though, and said shortly, "Hurt him, and I'll make your life a living hell."

"Why am I the only one that gets lectured?" House had protested.

"I was talking to both of you," she said firmly.

Surprisingly, Foreman was the next to become aware of their relationship. Wilson never knew how he'd figured it out, but a day or two after House had informed him that Foreman knew; Chase started giving him knowing looks. A couple of days after that he observed Cameron with red eyes, and House told him that she had found out, and had cried. She avoided Wilson for a few days, but things soon returned to normal.

-

Wilson was happy. Sure, House was an ass sometimes, and could be incredibly difficult, but (not that he'd ever let the other man hear him say this, mind) it was worth it at times. Like when they'd be sitting on the couch watching TV, and his lover would wordlessly take him into his arms. Or like when House, half-asleep in the morning, would snuggle up to him and use him as a pillow. Or when he'd be hanging out in the Diagnostics conference room, and House would stop berating his team for a moment to give him this _look_ that pretty much guaranteed that there would be some incredibly hot sex in the very near future.

So for almost six months, Wilson was happy. But nothing lasts forever.

It came out of nowhere. Sure, Wilson suspected that there was something up. House had been acting more closed off than had been usual for him even when they were only friends. But Wilson had been distracted with the stress of work and just plain everyday life (because no matter how happy he was in this relationship, that didn't change the fact that House was _not_ an easy person to live with), and he hadn't been able to get House in a good enough mood to talk to him about it. He'd hoped that House would either bring up what was bothering him, or that it would blow over.

But he reconsidered soon enough. House started acting distant, closed off. He'd return home late every night, and go straight to bed, all with saying as little as possible to Wilson.

House wouldn't tell him what was wrong, so Wilson asked House's team. They admitted that House had been staying at work late- doing what, they didn't know- but remained surprisingly unhelpful about anything else. Their consensus seemed to be that House was dealing with something- not that they knew what- and they'd just decided to ride it out.

Which was fine for them. But if House was going to open up to anyone- which wasn't always a sure thing- it would be he, Wilson. And although it had been common enough in the past for House to remain silent about whatever was causing his latest bout of grouchiness, even once his mood improved, Wilson thought that this time, it would be different. After all, they were living together now. They were lovers.

After about a week of this, Wilson confronted House.

"Greg, tell me what's going on," he said as House entered the apartment late Friday night.

House ignored him, tossing his backpack and motorcycle helmet on the couch and heading for the bedroom.

"Greg, please!"

House stopped. "I'm going out of town for a few days," he said without turning round.

"What? Where, why?"

"None of your business!" House exclaimed.

"Why won't you talk to me?"

"Because I don't feel like it."

"So I don't even get to know what's going on?"

"No, you don't!"

"Why not?"

House was silent for a moment, and when he spoke again his voice was more subdued. "Because it isn't any of your business."

Wilson took a step closer to House. "If you're taking it out on me, that _makes_ it my business."

"Fuck off," House said, but instead of anger, Wilson could hear only weariness in his voice.

"You can't just tell me?" Wilson implored.

"No."

"I need to know! You can't just treat me like this and expect me to be okay with it!"

"You never minded before."

"We weren't dating before!"

House snorted in amusement. "We're not dating."

"Really? What would you call this, then?"

"I don't know."

"Really? So is this just convenience for you? Is it just about the sex; is that it? Because I'm getting sick of being treated like this!" The rational part of Wilson's brain told him that he should stop, that this was not the way he should be speaking to the man he loved. But House could be so damn _frustrating_ at times, and Wilson was seized with the urge to push him until he got a reaction.

"What if I said it _was_ just about the sex?"

This momentarily derailed Wilson. "I… I wouldn't believe you."

"Why not?"

"Because you said you loved me."

"And how do you know I was telling the truth?"

"You… you were. I know you were."

"Please," House scoffed. "You cannot possibly be that naïve, Wilson."

Wilson was silent. His throat ached and he realized in a huge wave of self-loathing that he was about to cry.

"I'm going to bed," said House.

Wilson slept on the couch that night.

-

House left early the next morning. Wilson tried to get him to talk to him, but he was silent. By seven thirty, House was speeding away on his bike with a backpack full of the bare necessities.

Wilson called Cuddy shortly after House left to ask if she knew where he'd gone, but she told him that House had merely demanded a few days off without telling her what for, and that she'd consented to let him take a vacation day on Monday.

"He didn't tell you?" she asked, sounding surprised.

"He doesn't tell me anything anymore," Wilson replied bitterly. "God forbid he should confide anything in me."

"Did you expect him to?"

He sighed. "I don't know. He does, sometimes. I guess I just thought that now…"

Cuddy was silent for a moment, and then she offered, "Maybe this- this new phase in your relationship- is the reason why he's been acting this way."

"But that doesn't make sense! We should be closer than ever- and we were, for a while. But not anymore."

"That's what I'm saying. Maybe House is afraid of how close you're becoming. Maybe he's trying to push you away."

"That… could be it," Wilson allowed. "But even if it is, what do I do? Keep things the way they are? We're both miserable."

"Well…" Cuddy said slowly. "There's really only one course of action when two people are miserable in a relationship, isn't there?"

"No," Wilson said immediately. "I'm not leaving him."

"James… you're miserable."

"This isn't any reason to break up! It's just a rough patch. Up till now, things have been fine."

"Have they? Have they really?"

"Yes!" Wilson insisted.

"House seems like the type who would make you keep reaching out to him. Does he put anything into the relationship himself, or does he make you do all the work?"

"He… he said he loved me."

"Said? Just once?"

"For House, that's huge. You know that."

"Is that really enough for you?"

"Yes," Wilson said stubbornly.

"Maybe it shouldn't be," she said quietly.

He sighed. "I'm not leaving him. I… I promised him that I wouldn't." Wilson didn't mention the fact that, although he had promised House shortly after they'd gotten together, he'd made the promise to _himself_ after Stacy had left for the first time. "I'm not leaving him," Wilson repeated. "I can't."

-

Two days passed. House wasn't back. Wilson hadn't known what to do with himself, and there was a vicious, self-loathing part of him that was certain that that was pathetic.

When he went back to work on Monday, he quickened his pace as he passed the Diagnostics office, hoping that House's team wouldn't be paying attention to the people passing by in the hall.

Just as he thought he was in the clear, however, a familiar voice rang out after him. "Doctor Wilson!"

He turned, suppressing a groan. "Cameron."

"Doctor House isn't in yet."

"That's hardly unusual for him," Wilson pointed out. He and House had raised eyebrows by arriving at work together at a fairly respectable hour for the first few days of their relationship, but House had tired of being early and Wilson in turn could really not afford to come in even ninety minutes later, so they resumed their former hours.

"Chase said that he wasn't coming in at all."

"No, actually, he isn't," Wilson said, cursing Chase.

"Is he sick?"

Now he was also cursing Cameron. "No. He's out of town."

"I see. Do you know how long he'll be gone?"

"I think he'll be back tomorrow. Now, if you'll excuse me…"

Cameron apologized hastily for keeping him with a sincerity that might have convinced him if he hadn't been married three times. As it was, he simply assured her politely that it was no trouble and retreated to his office.

Wilson moved sluggishly through the rest of his day. As much as he tried, he couldn't keep his mind off of House. Wilson loved him. He wasn't so sure anymore that his feelings were reciprocated. He wanted to believe that they were… but wasn't House's behavior indication enough? Wilson knew what House was doing, all right- pushing him away, although he wasn't sure why. With House, there could be a million reasons- or none at all.

With growing despair, James Wilson realized that he was screwed.

-

Somehow, Wilson managed to survive the day. He must have called House's cell a half dozen times (leaving a message almost every time he called), but he never got a response, and House never called back.

Then, late that night, House came through the door as though nothing was out of the ordinary. To say Wilson was startled would not quite have done his feelings justice.

"Hey!' he stammered. "Uh- how are you doing?"

House glanced at him briefly, then continued on to the bedroom. "Better than you. You look like shit."

Wilson, used to House's passive-aggressive behavior, brushed this off. "Are you okay?" he asked hesitantly, suspecting he wouldn't get a real answer but determined to try.

"I'm fine," House said, predictably shutting him out.

He stood. "Oh, bullshit! If you were fine, you wouldn't have gone off for three days without telling me what was going on!"

"I don't have to tell you if I don't want to," the other man shot back.

"Oh, that's a good idea, approach this like you're three! House, please," he wheedled. "Tell me what's going on."

House didn't reply, simply continuing his walk to the bedroom. Wilson lacked the strength to go after him. He felt suddenly tired, and his head ached for no apparent reason. He couldn't deal with House anymore, not until morning, at least.

Wilson slept on the couch again.

-

When Wilson arrived at the hospital the next day, Cuddy flagged him down as he was passing the clinic.

"I gave House Monday off, he's supposed to be back by now."

"He's back," Wilson said wearily. "I assume he's coming in."

Cuddy frowned. "You look… tired. More than tired. I take it… things did not go well?"

"Things didn't really go anywhere. I don't know what to think anymore."

"You know House better than anybody," she said. "If you can't figure out where he's coming from…"

An idea came into Wilson's head. Normally, he would have rejected it immediately, but now… he was desperate.

Quickly, he extracted himself from Cuddy and hurried to his office. Once there, he flipped through his Rolodex.

_"Jeez, Wilson, do you have to be even _more_ dorky? Nobody uses these things anymore!"_

Wilson shut his eyes. Did _everything_ have to remind him of House?

Shaking his head as though to forcibly remove House's voice, Wilson flipped to the W's. Space in his Rolodex was reserved for work colleagues- who, as he had explained to House, he would never call outside of work. There was no point, he had continued, in wasting space in his cell phone's address book.

_"Am I in there, Wilson?" House had asked with feigned nonchalance that almost convinced him._

_"House, I have you on speed dial."_

_This was shortly after they had begun dating, and House had smirked at this and pulled him in for a kiss that left Wilson breathless and grinning stupidly to himself even hours later._

He shut his eyes tightly, as much to stop the tears as for any other reason. He didn't succeed, though, and a drop rolled swiftly down his cheek, ending up on his collar. Wilson rubbed the wet spot absentmindedly.

He dialed the number into his cell phone. It was familiar enough that he had only to glance at it once. There was a time when he'd had the number in the address book of his cell, but he'd since deleted it. Despite the Rolodex, Wilson had quite a few numbers in his phone, and had been trying to conserve space. After all, it had been so long since he'd talked to her…

"Hello?" a female voice answered, and Wilson sighed in relief. She wasn't at work. Good.

_You know House better than anybody,_ Cuddy had said, and she was probably right. But Wilson knew who was a close second, who was the only person he knew who had been through what he was going through right now with House.

He cleared his throat. "Stacy. It's James," he paused for a fraction of a second, then took the plunge. "I need to talk to you about House."

-

Reviews are love :D


	4. Burnout

Part four: Burnout

Okay, so as of this chapter, it's over. Sorry it took so long! Thank you so much to each and every one of you who left a review (and if you've been reading but not reviewing… it's not too late to tell me what you think!).

Also, I've added on an A/N as a separate chapter, after this one. (Y'all aren't going to rat me out for violating the ff.n ToS, right? XD)

-

Stacy didn't seem too surprised when Wilson told her that he and House were a couple.

"The way he looked at you, sometimes," she said. "Was something of a giveaway. I asked him about it once, when we were together. He denied it, but… not very convincingly."

"That didn't bother you?" Wilson asked, shocked that she could be so cavalier.

"Not really. I didn't think he had any romantic feelings for you. I thought it was just… lust."

Briefly, Wilson filled her in on House's behavior lately. "I don't know what to do," he admitted. "I'm sorry to bring it up, but…"

"No, it's alright," she sighed. "I know what you're going through, but… it sounds like you do, too. I mean… you were there, when… when he pushed me away. You saw how he was acting."

"Yeah," Wilson admitted. "I guess I just- I just hoped that this didn't mean what I thought it did. I don't understand why he would push me away."

Stacy was silent for a moment. "Maybe he's trying to hurt you before you can hurt him," she said. "I… that was the only reason_ I_ could come up with. He was afraid I'd hurt him… again."

"He wanted to be miserable," Wilson said bitterly. "Because he's screwed up."

"He said I'd be better off without him. I think maybe… he meant it," she said. "Maybe that's just what I wanted to think, I don't know. But maybe… maybe he cares for you too much. And maybe he wants to push you away before he can hurt you."

"This _is_ hurting me!" Wilson exclaimed.

"I never said it made sense," Stacy said sympathetically.

-

Wilson returned home late that night. The thought of going back to a cold and distant House was almost intolerable, and so he stayed at the hospital until nearly eight. When he finally walked in the door, he was surprised to find House sitting on the couch with a beer.

"Hey, you're home!" Wilson exclaimed, hoping against hope that this was a good sign.

"I live here," House said, not taking his eyes off the game. "The question is, why do you?"

"What?" Wilson asked, taken aback.

House did turn to look at him then, and his expression was cold and mocking. "C'mon, how dense are you? Do you not care that I treat you like crap?"

"Of course I care," Wilson replied, somewhat angrily.

"Then go away. Move out already."

Wilson took a deep breath. "No."

This caught House by surprise. "What?"

"You can't force me to leave you. If you really want me gone so badly, then _you_ end it. But I don't think you really _do_ want me to leave. You're trying to prove that I'll walk away from you, because that would fit your cynical, misanthropic view of life. But I'm not going to help you do it."

"You think I don't want you gone?" House challenged.

"Yeah, that's what I think."

House looked him straight in the face. "Get. Out."

"No," Wilson said again.

House sighed. "God, you're a masochist. I don't want you here."

"Why not?" he asked quietly.

"Why not? Because! You- you bug me."

"Really."

"Yes! You're too clingy; you never let me have a moment's peace. And you have to know everything about me."

"I-" Wilson had no response to this. He sighed. "Maybe… you have a point. But we can work around that-"

He broke off when he saw the way House was looking at him. Sternly, unwaveringly. Suddenly Wilson felt like a sixteen year old trying to explain to his father why there was a dent in his new car.

"Greg… please. I want this."

"Too bad," House said brusquely. "I don't."

Wilson nodded, slowly. He knew that he should do something, say something, but… he didn't really see the point. House wouldn't let him. "I… guess I'll get my stuff, then."

"You do that."

Feeling numb, Wilson walked slowly into their- into _House's_ bedroom, and gathered his things. He didn't have many. Finally, after he'd grabbed everything he could think of, he found himself back in the main room.

House appeared to be engrossed in the Yankees game, but Wilson suspected that it was an act. He cleared his throat, feeling immensely awkward. Was he supposed to just walk out? Just give up? Strangely, the thought no longer plunged him into despair. He felt tired. So very, very tired. He couldn't do this anymore. He couldn't bring himself to care.

"Well," he said. "I guess… I'll see you when I see you."

"Yeah," House replied absently.

Wilson stood there for a moment, feeling a wave of regret that, after everything, it had to end like _this._ He considered, for a moment, confronting House- demanding to know why, after everything, he was acting like this. But Wilson knew that if he did so, he'd probably end up feeling even more disheartened that he did now.

So in the end, there was nothing left to do but walk out the door.

-

He went on with life. He felt… well. That was the problem, wasn't it? Wilson didn't seem to be able to feel much of anything anymore.

House was avoiding him. This was for the best, Wilson figured. He honestly didn't _want_ to see him. Every time he walked by Diagnostics and caught a glimpse of House sitting behind his desk or standing at the conference table berating his staff, his throat tightened painfully, and he couldn't help but dwell, if only for a moment, on the past.

Diagnostics was, as a matter of fact, the _only_ place Wilson ever saw the other doctor. He never ran into House in the halls, the clinic, the cafeteria. The reason for this soon became clear when Cameron paid him a visit one day.

"I'm worried," she said. "He's just sitting in his office all day. He's taking more and more Vicodin, he's come in hung over at least twice- and once he didn't even come in at all! He's loosing weight-"

He stopped her. "I get it," Wilson said, ignoring the lance of pain that shot through him at her words. "What do you want me to do?"

"Help!" she said incredulously. "Look, I know you two aren't getting along, but I can't get through to him. Neither can Cuddy."

_Of course they can't,_ Wilson thought. Cameron was too caring, Cuddy too inconsistent.

"He's not going to let me in either." Wilson said heavily.

"But you have to try! He's a wreck!" She seemed angry.

"You think it's my fault?" he challenged.

"I think he wasn't like this two weeks ago!" Cameron retorted.

"You mean before we broke up," Wilson said flatly.

She flinched a little at that. "Yeah."

He sighed. No matter how bad he was feeling, it didn't give him the right to take it out on someone else. "I'm sorry," Wilson said. "He broke up with me, you know."

She nodded. "Yeah, but he's _House_. Do you really trust his motives?"

He shook his head. "I don't know _what_ to think. Seven months we were together, then all of a sudden he just… ends it."

They sat there in silence for a moment.

"Will you talk to him?" Cameron asked.

Wilson shook his head. "It's not going to make anything better."

Cameron looked outraged. "But he's a mess! You _have_ to do _something!_"

"Why? He's not going to listen to me, and it's only going to make _me_ feel like crap!" Wilson exclaimed.

"But you're the only one who can get through to him!" she protested.

"I am neither House's conscience nor his keeper," Wilson replied glumly. "Not anymore."

Cameron glared at him for a moment, then stalked away.

-

A week or so later, Wilson was sitting in his office doing paperwork, barely paying attention to any of it.

House was still avoiding him, and by now it was mutual. Wilson had absolutely no desire to see the other man. Unfortunately, he couldn't always stop his thoughts from returning to House and what they had had.

Wilson was pulled out of his reverie by a knock on his door.

"Come in!" he called.

Chase stuck his head in. "Can you take a look at these X-rays?" he inquired.

Wilson (ignoring the brief flash of pain- once it would have been _House_ who would have brought him the X-rays) held out his hand for the envelope.

"It's not cancer," he announced, after studying them for a moment.

Chase nodded. "Okay, thanks."

Wilson could almost see the wheels in the other doctor's head whirring furiously, trying to think of alternative diagnoses.

"Chase?"

"Hm?"

Wilson paused for a moment. He felt pretty stupid about this- after all, this wasn't high school- but the alternative would involve actually talking to House, something he wanted to avoid for as long as possible.

"Ah, can you ask House to bring in my DVD player? I, uh, left it at his place."

Chase shrugged. "Sure."

"Thanks," he replied with a grateful smile.

-

The next day, as Wilson was walking to the clinic, he ran into Chase- literally.

"Sorry!" he exclaimed. "I didn't see you."

"No worries," Chase replied easily. "Uh, by the way… about the DVD player… House says that if you want it back, then you can ask for yourself."

Wilson frowned. "Look, tell House that-"

"And I'm _done_ playing messenger!" Chase exclaimed.

Wilson sighed, knowing that Chase was perfectly right to put his foot down. But this did mean that he'd actually have to talk to House. Damn.

Not that he could do so right away, though. He had clinic hours to catch up on.

Wilson put in a good two hours in the clinic, then finally decided that he'd had enough. After assuring his last patient, a teenage girl who'd been scared by her Health class, that she did not, in fact, have Chlamydia, he exited the exam room, already feeling a headache coming on.

He knew for sure that his day was going to take a downward spiral, though, when he heard a loud, obnoxious voice ringing out across the waiting room.

"1:15, Doctor House signs in."

"It's 12:51," Nurse Brenda replied, her tone of voice making it clear that her thoughts on House were, for once, completely synchronized with Wilson's.

"I was rounding up," he heard House say.

Wilson, unfortunately, would have to pass right by House in order to exit the clinic. _Okay, fine,_ he thought as he started walking. He'd just ignore him…

"Wilson!" House yelled.

He took a deep breath. "What?" he asked without stopping.

"If you want your shit back, ask me yourself."

"Fine," Wilson replied on his way out the door. "I want my shit back."

-

Weeks passed. House and Wilson eventually started talking again- a consult, when needed, a few words when passing each other in the halls. It was awkward, but they both pretended that it wasn't.

Then Wilson met a girl- a physical therapist that worked at the hospital part time. She was very pretty, and seemed quite taken with him. He took her out one evening, hoping to get lucky. He did.

It was the first time he'd had sex since breaking up with House- and it was fantastic.

His wives and by other women he'd been with had told Wilson that he was good in bed. This girl- Jenny- was no exception. She, however, gave as good as she got. And, despite the fact that she was more than a few years younger than him, she seemed quite taken with him. There wasn't any love involved- they both knew that. But they got along well, and they had fun.

She came by his office one day around noon. Jenny only worked half days, and she was usually done around Wilson's lunch hour. Because of this, they'd often go down to the cafeteria together. Wilson hadn't eaten lunch with House since before they'd broken up, and it was nice to have someone to keep him company.

On this particular day, Wilson was just finishing up some paperwork before he went to lunch with Jenny. She'd come in a few minutes ago, and was sitting on his couch waiting for him to finish. He was about to file it away when the door opened. He looked up.

"House," he said. "I was just about to go to lunch…"

"Yeah yeah, it'll take two seconds," House overrode him. "Take a look at this for me," he said, handing him a folder.

It was a chest x-ray. Wilson looked it over. "It looks fine," he said.

"There's that spot on the upper left-"

"That's just a blemish on the film, it doesn't look anything like a tumor," Wilson said suspiciously.

House took back the x-ray with a shrug. "Never hurts to be sure," he said.

Wilson frowned, not buying it. "What do you really want?"

"Jeez, Wilson, can't I just pop in to say hi?"

"House…" Wilson groaned. "Could you _please_…"

"So," House said loudly, turning to Jenny. "You're the new girlfriend."

To Wilson's surprise, Jenny just grinned. "Yep. And you're the ex-boyfriend, right?"

House seemed disappointed at her unflustered reaction. He went for higher shock value. "Good in bed, isn't he?"

Jenny nodded. "He's quite a catch. I'm surprised you let him go."

House soured at this. "Yeah, well. He gets clingy."

"Oh, I don't know. I tend to take it as a complement when someone wants to spend a lot of time around me."

"Until it gets annoying."

Jenny shrugged. "Guess you're more easily annoyed than I am."

"House," Wilson interrupted. "Would you _please_ leave?"

"How about not?"

"House!"

Jenny was observing this exchange with obvious amusement. "Do want me to give you a moment?"

"Yeah, goodbye!" House said rudely.

"No!" Wilson insisted at the same time.

They glared at each other.

"I'll just… meet you in the cafeteria, James," Jenny said, grabbing her purse and exiting.

"Thanks a fucking lot," Wilson hissed as the door closed behind her.

"Oh, you don't even like her. Let me guess, it's all about the sex, right?"

"You don't know that!"

"I can tell."

"You've ignored me for weeks! House, _you_ broke up with _me!_ You don't have any right to interfere in my life anymore!"

House ignored him. "You're right, it has been a couple months. Kind of late to be on the rebound, isn't it? I mean; I'm flattered, but-"

"I am _not_ on the rebound! House, I am _trying_ to get over you-"

"Trying? Then you _are_ on the rebound?"

Wilson threw his hands up in frustration. "What do you want me to say, House? You _hurt_ me. People don't just bounce back from things like that."

House rolled his eyes. "Oh, please. What's next, are you going to start crying like a teenage girl?"

Wilson slammed his hands down on his desk. "Would you _stop!_"

House, startled, actually shut up.

"You- you took advantage of me. You made me do everything- but you always had to be the one who called the shots, you always had to be in control. I was _happy,_ and you took advantage of that! And then, when you decided that you didn't want to be with me, you started treating me like _crap_ until I stopped caring about you! You didn't even have the balls to end it yourself!"

"It was better that you end it."

"What, like it was better that Stacy leave you? You did the same thing with her, you know. And you made her hate herself." Wilson's throat closed up. At the time of House's infarction, he'd been unable to fathom how Stacy could have left him like that. Now he understood.

"Oh, so now you _hate yourself?_"

"Do you know what, House?" Wilson demanded. "You're a coward. You pushed Stacy away; you pushed me away. You make the people who love you leave! You're just determined to be miserable. And who am I to stand in your way?"

And with that, Wilson walked out of the room.

He quickly walked down the hall, but instead of waiting for the elevator, Wilson headed for the stairs. He didn't want House to be able to follow him.

When Wilson reached the cafeteria, he quickly spotted Jenny. As he drew closer, he saw that she'd bought him a salad and a Coke.

"Thanks," he said, sitting down. "Look- I'm really sorry about that."

She shrugged. "It's okay. Believe me, I get it. I've had a couple exes who didn't know when to leave well enough alone."

"But, you don't mind? I mean, that House and I used to be-" Wilson couldn't think of what word to use. "Involved?"

Jenny shook her head. "Who you dated, who you were involved with before we even met? It doesn't bother me. And it doesn't bother me that you were with a guy. It's just- love is love. Sex is sex. Why people make a big deal over gender, I'll never know."

"I… can't argue with that."

"Besides," she muttered. "It's not like this is the first time I've been the rebound girl."

"Wait- that's not it!" he protested.

"I'm sure you don't see it that way," she said. "But… I saw the way you two were looking at each other."

"We have history," Wilson objected. "But we hardly ever talk anymore."

Jenny looked at him understandingly and a little sympathetically. "That doesn't exactly disprove my point," she said.

-

Time passed. Jenny eventually got a job in New York and moved away. It wasn't a big deal. It hadn't been a very serious relationship, emotionally speaking.

Slowly, Wilson and House became more relaxed around each other. They got to the point where they could exchange a few words or a consult without too much awkwardness. Eventually House started actively seeking Wilson out for conversations.

He wasn't quite sure what to make of this, and confessed as much to Cuddy one day. With House out of the running, she was probably the closest friend he had now.

"He's probably lonely," she said. "Apparently he's been treating his team like crap. He's certainly been driving me to distraction," she sighed. "It's enough to make a woman rethink having kids."

Grateful to have an excuse, Wilson quickly changed the subject from House to Cuddy's pregnancy struggles. Cuddy was glad to talk about herself, and Wilson was equally glad to get her off the subject of House.

But it was harder and harder to avoid his former friend these days. House seemed to genuinely want to spend time with him. Not that he even made the vaguest allusion to a desire to rekindle their friendship, but his actions spoke louder than his (often insulting) words.

One evening as Wilson was leaving his office for the day, House called to him through the open door as he passed by Diagnostics.

Wilson had reached the point where he could handle conversing with House- he still, however, wasn't quite used to it. He readily approached the office, but stopped in the doorway.

"You need a consult?" he asked.

House shook his head. "C'mere," he said, beckoning him forward.

Wilson reluctantly approached. "Some of us actually spend our time working, you know…"

"Next Saturday?" House asked, arching an eyebrow.

"What? Oh…" he thought for a moment. "No, I don't think so… why?"

House brandished an envelope. "Massive monster truck rally. I got two tickets and… well, Foreman's been sulking lately, so I'm not doing him any favors, Cameron doesn't appreciate monster trucks; Chase… well, monster truck rallies are for men. "

"Why… why are you doing this?" Wilson asked. He recognized this as a gesture, perhaps even an apology. But since House seemed so keen to forget everything that had happened between them, Wilson wanted to hear him say as much.

He shrugged. "Like I said, I have the tickets, and-"

"Oh, that's a load of crap!" Wilson exclaimed. "If you want to spend time with me, want to get to be friends again- just say so."

House looked away. "Okay," he said, still not making eye contact. "I do."

"Okay," Wilson replied.

There was a moment of awkward silence.

"Well… I guess I'll see you tomorrow, then."

"Night Wilson," House said.

He felt a pang. For years they had exchanged this casual goodnight every evening when they parted; even during their relationship when they'd be drifting off to sleep, they had continued the tradition. Now House was reviving it, and Wilson knew that if he replied, it would be a silent signal: we're okay.

They weren't okay. But they were infinitely better than they had been, and for the first time since House had kicked him out of his apartment, Wilson felt like maybe he and House could get back to a good place.

"Night House," he replied.

-

The monster truck rally was one of the best they'd ever been to. They drank bad beer and cheered as the oversized vehicles demolished one another. As far as he and House were concerned, it was just like old times- on the surface, at least. There was tension beneath the banter, but as the night went on things got easier.

It was well past midnight when Wilson pulled up in front of House's apartment. He glanced over at the other man to see how the booze and pills were affecting him. He seemed fine, of course.

"Well… here we are," Wilson said.

"You wanna come in?" House asked. "I've got decent beer, popcorn… _Killer Clowns From Outer Space_ on the TiVo…"

Wilson sighed. "I… should get home. If I go sit down and get comfortable, I won't get up again until tomorrow morning."

House shrugged. "It's not like we have to work."

"Yeah, but your couch is pretty uncomfortable," Wilson responded.

"So…" House said, not meeting his eyes and going into what Wilson identified as 'feigned casual' mode. "Don't sleep on the couch."

Wilson's eyes slid shut. _Damn._ His brain was screaming at him to run, but his heart had filled with longing. He wasn't over House, but he wasn't getting hurt again either.

"If that's what you want," he said. "You need to say so. If you want this again, it can't be like last time. I need to know that I'm not going to get hurt again."

House met his gaze uncertainly. Wilson knew he was asking for a lot, but he had learned from past mistakes. He wasn't being unreasonable.

Wilson put on the parking break, and waited for his friend to speak.

-

The end


	5. Author's Note

**Author's Note**

**-**

**I started this fic (then intended to be a one-shot) almost two years ago. It was September 06 and I'd gotten into the House fandom over the summer. Towards the end of August, I started reading some House/Wilson fanfiction online. I knew of the existence of the pairing, but at that point didn't understand the appeal of it (which, in hindsight, I'm so ashamed to admit. But I'd only seen the latter half of Season 2 and was, even more embarrassingly, something of a House/Stacey shipper). Even after I'd read some slash, I wasn't sure I understood any better. But one fic changed my mind (A Challenge A Day by Katling, Chapter 5 specifically)- a one-shot where House, overcome by the unspoken tension between himself and Wilson, downs a bottle of Vicodin chased by a bottle of whiskey. Wilson finds his body accompanied by a note, which reads (if I remember correctly): **_**Jimmy, It hurts too much. I can't take it anymore. Love, Greg.**_

**That short, short fic changed my life in two ways. One- it made me into such a shipper that I for the first time understood the meaning of 'OTP'. Two- it hit home really hard, confusing the hell out of me in the process.**

**I think I've told some of you in review replies that this fic is largely autobiographical? Well, I have- **_**had**_**- this friend (my best friend, actually, at the time), who reminded me of House. And oh boy, did she have the problems to match. She suffered from a lot of depression, and self-mutilated on a regular basis. I was also pretty damn sure she was in love with me. She'd kissed me a few months ago, and although we'd never spoken of it since, it remained there between us. After reading Katling's fic, where (to reiterate) House KILLS HIMSELF because Wilson does nothing about the tension between them, I became incredibly concerned about what my friend might do if I let our tension go unresolved. So, confused and worried, I wrote Chapter 1 purely as a coping mechanism.**

**It proved cathartic, and about a week and a half later, my best friend and I were in a relationship, at my instigation. The way it came about was nothing like in the fic; the reality was much less dramatic. But excepting that, you can take a lot of Chapters 2-4, change it around a little (the names, the setting), and have the true account (to the extent of the lines I gave the characters, even!).**

**Finally, she started behaving like House does in this fic, and, like House does to Wilson, pushed me until I broke up with her. We deviate from reality a lot more as I cover that, although a lot of it is still based in reality, just rather more loosely. (Such as Jenny. **_**My**_** version of that is rather more… scandalous. But I digress.)**

**It hurt to dwell on the memories of our relationship, and as recently as the fall and winter of 07/08 (we broke up in July) I was suffering from depression (I lost 10 pounds though, proving that every cloud has a silver lining!). Between that and my insanely hectic & stressful junior year of high school, I worked on 'Friendship' in fits and starts.**

**But I was **_**still**_** getting reviews, and I myself **_**hated**_** it (still do) when authors gave up their WIPs. So I finished up this fic because I knew I owed it to you, the readers. The ending's for you, as well- my ex has never shown an interest in getting back with me, and even if she did, even if I didn't now have a wonderful boyfriend, I'd turn her down. And although I've seen her socially outside school a couple times, it would be pushing it to call us friends. The shipper in me wouldn't let myself do that to House and Wilson, but the part of me that had been hurt so badly by my ex wouldn't let Wilson forgive House for everything he'd done. So I ended things ambiguously, ultimately letting the reader believe what they want to.**

**Thank you, everyone, for coming on this journey with me.**

**Emma**

**aka**

**an-angel-in-hell**


	6. Bonus Features

Bonus Features

**So I really thought I was done with this fic. But that was before I was tentatively diagnosed with a mood disorder, either bipolar disorder or depression. Or it could be neither of the two- apparently my age (17) makes it hard to identify such things.**

**Every day I think of the pain my ex caused me. It wasn't that she broke my heart- it was more like she injected me with a slow-acting poison, which made my love for her shrivel and die. And it still hurts, a year and three-quarters later.**

**So I've written up two endings for the fic. Who knows? Maybe it will be therapeutic.**

Ending 1

This one goes out to all the House/Wilson shippers- rock on with your bad selves!

-

"I… want to be with you," House said slowly. "I know I hurt you… I just honestly thought that it would be better if you stopped caring."

Wilson exhaled sharply. "House, you have no idea how _much_ you hurt me. And…" He paused. "I never stopped caring. We've been friends for more than ten years… you've pulled some pretty bad stunts in the past, you know."

"But they never hurt this much," House said.

"No," he admitted. "They didn't. But… I never got over you. I think… I think we're stuck with each other."

Hope glimmered in House's eyes. "So, you mean…"

Wilson smiled. "Yes. I want to be with you too, House."

-

Yay! Happy ending for us shippers.

Ending 2

I wouldn't be surprised if nobody wants to read this one, it's written for purely personal reasons. I haven't even written it yet, and I already know it won't be pretty.

-

"I… want to be with you," House said slowly. "I know I hurt you… I just honestly thought that it would be better if you stopped caring."

Wilson shook his head. "Why couldn't you just have broken my heart, House? It would have hurt so much less."

"I thought… if it reached the point where you didn't care about me-"

"Did you ever stop to think of how _much_ I cared about you? How much it would hurt me to _get_ to that point?" Wilson asked angrily.

"I… I'm sorry."

"What, is that supposed to impress me? The great Gregory House has apologized. I'm sure Satan has begun renting out ski equipment."

House cast down his eyes. "Just… forget I said anything."

"Oh, no. You don't get to get off that easily," Wilson said. "You know what House? I thought I wasn't over you, but I am. What I'm _not_ over is all the pain you caused me. I think it would be better if we just don't talk to each other anymore."

House flinched, but then his face became impassive. He nodded. Opening the door, he got out of the car.

"You know what, House?" Wilson asked before he could close the door. "We've been friends for a long time. I thought nothing could tear us apart. But you've proved me wrong."

_Congratulations,_ Wilson wanted to say. _You've finally made me stop caring about you._ But the words wouldn't leave his lips. He'd so desperately wanted to avoid hurting House during their relationship. Now he couldn't bring himself to make things any worse.

After a pause, House moved to close the door. "Goodnight, Wilson," he said sadly.

Wilson made sure to reply before the door swung shut. "Have a nice life, House."

And he was surprised to discover that he meant it.

-

Hey, that was nowhere near as ugly as I thought it was going to be. Awesome.


End file.
